


Bleatbeasts

by traceExcalibur



Category: Catherine - Fandom, Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceExcalibur/pseuds/traceExcalibur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Rest in peace, oh lamb..."<br/>Equius awakes in some sort of odd purgatory, surrounded by sheep, forced to climb a towering stack of blocks and confront his worst nightmare...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleatbeasts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short crossover between Homestuck and the video game Catherine. Yes, that is an extremely weird combination, and so far as I can tell this is not only the first (and perhaps it will be the only) Homestuck/Catherine crossover fic on this site, it is also the first Catherine fic in general. Cool!  
> I know there probably aren't a whole lot of people here who've both played Catherine and read Homestuck, but I hope you guys enjoy the fic regardless!

_“Eheheh, hello there...come on in, your nightmare awaits you~”_

When he awoke, he was trapped in a vast expanse of nothingness. A great void stretched out as far as the eye could see, populated only by a small assortment of bleatbeasts and an ornate door. The animals had pallid complexions and strangely shaped horns...oddly familiar ones, even. Before he could take a closer look, the door opened and the void was washed over with a gaudy magenta light. To some, the light would appear like salvation. To others, it would signal their oncoming doom. To him, it was an order that must be followed at all costs. He was the first to step through the door, and watch as everything vanished in a flash of light.

 _“Welcome, lost lambs, to the Underground Cemetary.”_

When he re-appeared on the other side of the door, he was standing at the bottom of a tower that stretched far up into the distance. It was made of crumbling square blocks, all the same size and weight, with little edges on them for him to grab onto and pull them. He looked downwards and saw only emptiness; surrounding the tower, too far for him to reach, was a desolate graveyard. He had little time to wonder where he was, or how he had appeared there – the blocks beneath him were dropping away from the tower at an alarming rate.

Unlike the other bleatbeasts, though – who he assumed were struggling their way up other sections of the tower, or other towers altogether – he had a special gift. Strength beyond measure, enough to break almost anything he touched, and enough to carry him up the tower. He planted his feet firmly on the toughest looking block he could find, and he leapt upwards, his muscles propelling him into the air almost as if he were flying. His arms caught the edge of a block and he hoisted himself up, soaring ever upwards. It took only a few bounds for him to reach the top of the tower, where he found only a small lever on a gilded pedestal. Pulling the lever revealed a staircase, decked out with a regal red carpet and more gilded edges. He looked back at the collapsing tower, shrugged, and ascended.

The stairway brought him to a small landing, populated by more bleatbeasts. Some of them had the same familiar horns as the ones he had glimpsed before, and he surmised that he was correct in his assumption that the other creatures had climbed the tower alongside him. He approached one of them – it had a slight red tinge to it’s wool and it’s horns were short and nubby.

“What e%actly are we doing here, do you know?”

“LIKE FUCK I DO. I DON’T HAVE THE SLIGHTEST IDEA HOW WE GOT HERE OR WHY. ALL I’VE GATHERED IS THAT THERE’S SOME SORT OF FUCKING MONSTROSITY WAITING IN THE WINGS TO GIVE US A BIG ‘FUCK YOUR SHIT’ AND KILL US, AND IF WE DIE HERE IT’S THE END OF THE LINE BACK IN THE REAL WORLD, OR WHEREVER THE HELL ELSE YOU CAME FROM.”

“What, really? That is rather distressing news.”

“NO SHIT, SHERLOCK TROLLMES. LOOKS LIKE WE’VE GOT NO CHOICE BUT TO KEEP CLIMBING AND TRY NOT TO DESCEND INTO BATSHIT INSANITY WHILE WE DO IT. OH, AND WATCH OUT FOR OTHER BLEATBEASTS, SOME OF THE CRAZIER ONES WILL TRY TO SHOVE YOU OFF THE TOWER...FUCKASSES.”

“Alright. Thank you for sharing this information...er, what sh001d I call you?”

“I DON’T REMEMBER MY NAME. DO YOU?”

The realization hit him like a brick. He had fuzzy memories of who he was and where he came from, but crucial facts – his name, the people he knew, what he was doing just before he arrived – were missing.

“No, come to think of it I do not...but you 100k oddly familiar to me.”

“YEAH, SAME HERE. WHATEVER, IT’S PROBABLY THE SAME DUMB FUCK WHO PUT US HERE PLAYING PSYCHOLOGICAL HOPSCOTCH WITH OUR THINK PANS. JUST FOCUS ON CLIMBING, AND TRY NOT TO GET YOURSELF KILLED I GUESS.”

“Yes. The same to you.”

He left the angry bleatbeast and looked around at the rest. Some of them were busy muttering to themselves or shaking in terror, and others seemed to be discussing strategies for scaling the tower. He thought it would be a foolish waste of time to join them – after all, he could easily make his way to the top with his strong climbing skills.

Aside from the creatures, all he noticed was a small sign labelled “freedom” next to a red, velvet-coated booth. He sat down inside it and a voice spoke to him through a vent.

“Hello, and welcome to the confessional. I have a question to ask you, and then I will let you up to the next floor...I’ll warn you, though. You are going to die eventually.”

“E%cuse me? I have no intentions of dying here. I command you to tell me who you are and why I’ve been brought here.”

“Heh, you’re quite the feisty one. But I’m the one in charge here, not you...I guess I’ll at least give you a bit of info. This tower is where we bring sinners like you, night after night until you break. There are eight floors, and if you reach the top you’ll survive. Nobody ever makes it to the top, though...you’ll never be able to make it out alive.”

“We will see about that.”

“Heheheheh...we’ll see, indeed. Now for the first question: What is more important to you, enjoying your life or watching other people enjoy theirs?”

Two ropes fell down, seemingly from nowhere.

“Pull the left rope for ‘enjoying my life’, and pull the right one for ‘watching other people enjoy theirs’”.

“What a ridic001ous and inane question. I refuse to answer it.”

“That’s not how it works, little lamb. You answer my question, let me learn a little bit about what makes you tick, and I let you go on. You don’t answer the question, and you’re trapped here forever...and even this landing will fall, eventually.”

He broke out into a cold sweat, looking between the ropes, wondering whether he should deign to obey the mysterious voice. It seemed to be in control here, and he could see no other choice if he wanted to pass. Begrudgingly, he pulled on the left rope.

“Interesting...it’s as I expected. Very well, I’ll take you up to the next level. Good luck...you’ll need it.” With that, the booth began to rise, shooting up into the sky and taking its inhabitant along with it.

 _“Welcome, lost lamb, to the Torture Chamber.”_

This new section of the tower was much like the last, but the décor had undergone a significant change. Rather than graves in the distance, there were blood-spattered cages, filled with bleatbeasts. Other hapless souls were strapped to dreadful-looking devices with whirring sawblades inching ever closer to their groins. Some of the trolls-turned-animals were hanging from the walls in handcuffs, and some could be spotted in the distance frantically ascending other block towers, far from his reach.

He tore his gaze away from all of the punishing instruments and tried to calm his nerves. His body was drenched in sweat – this section of the tower was so deliciously depraved...he tried to clear his mind, taking a step onto the nearest block.

There was an ominous metallic clink, and before he could move a dozen spikes shot out from underneath him. They were no match for his body, though, shattering harmlessly against his feet and thighs. He shrugged off the trap and began climbing the tower, and it took only a short time to reach the top.

The second landing was much like the first, populated by bleatbeasts and the confessional booth. He glanced around and noticed that many of the inhabitants were looking much worse than they had at the previous landing. Even the nubby-horned beast he met earlier was huddled against a bench, shaking wildly and muttering to himself.

“E%cuse me, are you alright?”

“OH NO OH NO OH NO NO NO OH GOD NO I AM NOT OK NOTHING IS OK, WHY DID IT...OH GOD WHAT SICK FUCK WOULD DO THIS...”

“What happened?”

 _“_ I WASN’T FUCKING READY FOR THAT, IT...OH GOD IT WAS THE FROG, IT WAS HIM, HE KNEW WHAT I DID TO HIM AND HE WAS COMING AFTER ME...AND THE TUMORS, GODFORSAKEN TUMORS BUBBLING OUT ALL OVER HIM LIKE BOILS, AND HE WAS CROAKING AND SCREECHING AND HE WAS CHASING ME, SUCKING UP ALL THE BLOCKS...

AND OH GOD, INSIDE HIM, SWIRLING AROUND IN THE NEBULAS...IT WAS _HIS_ FACE, HIS GODDAMNED PAINTED FACE WITH CUT MARKS ALL OVER IT AND A CRAZED LOOK IN HIS EYE AND HE WAS LAUGHING AT ME...TELLING ME HE WAS GONNA KILL ME, KILL ALL OF THEM, AND IT WAS ALL MY FAULT, I COULD’VE FUCKING DONE SOMETHING AND I DIDN’T...

...AND THE HONKING _OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD THE HONKING **WHY WON’T THE HONKING STOP????**_ ”

“What honking? I do not hear any honking.”

“YOU CAN’T FUCKING HEAR IT ASSHOLE, IT’S MINE TO DEAL WITH...IT’S IN MY HEAD, HE’S FUCKING WITH ME, THE SADISTIC BASTARD...THEY’RE GONNA SEND SOMETHING AT YOU TOO, SOMETHING JUST AS BAD, BE PREPARED DAMN IT!”

“This is f001ish, surely whatever these beings do to you in the nightmare cannot have such a profound effect.”

“IT FUCKING DOES, YOU’LL UNDERSTAND SOON ENOUGH. GO ON, CLIMB HIGHER IF YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE IT...”

The bleatbeast’s speech devolved into a terrified and neurotic fit of laughter. He left it alone to its madness and moved on, taking a seat in the confessional and glaring at the vent. Sure enough, an annoying sing-song voice echoed out to greet him.

“Ah, so you’ve made it! The next level is going to be a reeeaaaaal killer, you know...I wonder if you’ll be able to face her...”

“Face who? Tell me what is going on, immediately!”

“Ah ah ah, I can’t do that. It would spoil the surprise...instead, I’ll just ask you question number two.”

“This is un%ceptable, I demand that you—“

“Question two! Would you hurt the one you loved if it meant getting what you wanted? Pull the left rope for yes, and the right one for no. Answer honestly, now~”

“...”

He sat there in a stony silence, looking back and forth between the two ropes. One of his memories resurfaced - in a moment of weakness, he had allowed himself to be subjugglated by his superior, despite pledging to keep his moirail safe...but that was not his fault, was it? He had to kneel to the highblood, there was no other choice...right...?

“I w001d never do something so reprehensible...”

Trying his best to look certain, he pulled on the right rope, and watched as it was wrenched back into the ceiling.

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite the interesting little lamb...we’ll test that belief of yours on the next floor.”

The lift brought him to the second floor of the Torture Chamber. When he glanced around it seemed at first to be exactly the same as the last section. He began to wonder who the voice had been referring to, but his musings were interrupted and his query satisfied as a gigantic clawed hand burst from the darkness below him and embedded its sharp nails into the tower.

 **  
_“you were suppawsed to purrtect me!”_   
**

Another arm shot out and clutched onto the tower, dragging itself upwards. Two great yellow eyes glinted from somewhere in the void.

 **  
_“i died beclaws of you!”_   
**

The beast pulled itself upwards, its face becoming visible. A mane of tangled hair framed two wild and bloodshot eyes, contracted into catlike pupils. The creature was baring its fangs, and its face was garish and distorted, covered with hideous scrapes and bruises. Green blood was rolling down its cheeks and dripping down into the pit. As it rose higher, it became apparent that it was his moirail – but it wasn’t the sweet and cheerful girl he had left to die...this wounded and crazed monstrosity was a twisted shadow of the girl he had once loved.

 **  
_“look at me now! this is all your fault!!”_   
**

She let out a terrifying screech as her blood began to bubble out from her eyes, ears, and mouth, waves of sickly olive pouring out...he could only watch in horror as the blood slowly changed color – the hue he had learned to tolerate was quickly fading away, replaced by a disgusting rusty red. It wasn’t even the same depraved color that his matesprit had once sported – it was even lower, bordering on a mutant color...and before his eyes, an indigo shade began to mix with the red, which was collecting in wavy circles and orbiting her torso...

 **  
_“you did this to me...you abandoned me...you left me to die!”_   
**

“N-no...that’s not the truth, I w001d never...I mean...”

He tried to speak, and his voice was weak and stuttering. It was a feeling he had never experienced before...pure helplessness...and he was terrified. He had no control over this monstrosity; his strength was draining away as he watched it rise before him, his legs refusing to move, every cell in his think pan screaming out for him to do something. But what was there to be done? His inability to move was unlike the kind he faced before the highblood, who he would have gladly deferred to...he did not want to die here, not again, not at the hand of his beloved moirail...but she was right. He was responsible for her death. He was to be blamed, and he had to be punished.

And for the first time in his life, he could derive no sick pleasure from that punishment. He could only watch helpless as she raised her arm up, and as the claw shot towards him with deadly accuracy...

 

The mysterious voice laughed, a triumphant edge to his twisted, cheery voice.

 _“Rest in peace, oh lamb...”_


End file.
